


Tokens

by firjii



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Frilly cake, Gen, Haven, Music, Relationship Fluff, canonically ambiguous ideas about the Dalish and/or elves, early/pre-relationship, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firjii/pseuds/firjii
Summary: Still troubled by Alexius' actions, Ellana forgets an important occasion. Solas offers her several simple but welcome surprises.





	Tokens

Though there had been fairly little time to spare, Solas had planned it quite meticulously, as efficient and practical about this matter as he was about everything else. He had consulted Leliana on the simplest plan of attack, utilized Josephine’s trade contacts, and even overseen the makeshift cooking arrangements in the Haven Chantry to be certain that all involved understood the gravity of the situation and the importance of the occasion. Cullen had protested for a moment when he’d realized that it would mean moving some of their soldiers to the valley on the other side of the frozen lake for the day – and perhaps the night – but the Herald was important. It had only taken an icy glare from Leliana to blunt the edge of his complaints.

Ellana had been exhausted since Redcliffe, perhaps from the Anchor or perhaps simply the events of the dark future. Too pragmatic to openly dwell on it with her advisors – but also too easily affected by chaos and selfishness to completely ignore what she had seen – it had instead been festering quietly inside, scarcely more evident than a distant stare or a weary sigh at times.

But it had persisted and endured, only rarely absent despite her companions’ best efforts and her allies’ straightforward counsel. More than once, she had been seen wandering in the hills on the pretext of hunting yet had returned empty-handed, an impossible outcome considering her skill with a bow. Any truly idle moment she’d had – and there were too few of those – was usually spent in seclusion or on sleep, though Solas had noted that her eyes had been rimmed and puffy for weeks. She hadn’t made any mention of the occasion. Mostly likely, she had genuinely forgotten the day altogether.

Solas waited outside her cabin, not daring to interrupt her rest. He didn’t need to wait long. After a few moments, he heard her pacing dully within. He clapped his elbows crisply behind his back as the door opened. “Good,” he chirped. “The scouts were correct. I was hoping to find you here.”

She rubbed her eyes, barely disguising a drowsy squint. “What’s happened now?” Her voice was phlegmy and flat. Her lips were pale, as if they hadn’t woken up as quickly as the rest of her.

“I only thought that you might appreciate a stout meal. A quiet stomach can lead to a quiet mind.”

“So can a decent night’s sleep.”

“Indeed. They tell me that you often wake with nightmares fresh in your eyes.”

“It’s alright. I’ll forget about it all eventually.”

“Perhaps, but you must be more careful with yourself until then.”

“ _Careful_?” she lilted. “When there’s a hole in the sky that could widen at any moment?” But the offer of food proved too attractive for her to deny.

Solas’ feet pattered softly through the bright snow as Ellana’s soft boots crunched atop it with a comparative din. She glanced down at his bare toes, not for the first time. “Aren’t you worried about all the mud the soldiers track around?”

“I would think that one who has lived among the Dalish would be quite accustomed to dirt.”

She sobered. “‘ _One who has lived among the Dalish_ ,’” she recited in a deflated tone.

He stopped. “I am sorry. It was a crude way to put it.”

She shook her head and walked on. “But you’re right. It’s true. No one’s made it a secret. I wasn’t born there. I’m not as Dalish as they are.”  

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course not. My mother fled the alienage for a reason.”

“I should not have mentioned it.”

She snorted as she rubbed the last of her sleep from her eyes. “ _Someone_ would have. It’s alright. Call it what it is. My father was human. I’m not an elf. I’m something else.”

“You were raised in the ways of the Dalish. They accepted your mother and they accepted _you_.”

"Only by luck. No one made them take us. It doesn’t happen often.”

“You were given vallaslin when the time came. You have more knowledge of the elvhen language and history than any city elf.”

She nodded. “And I _look_ like a human.”

“Some have found profound freedom in belonging to no world at all.”

“Not if it means bare survival.”

He put two light fingers to her shoulder to make her stop her angular steps. “You are a capable hunter and a marvelous shot. Did you know that Sera sneaks off to watch you practice? I often see her slinking back here with a mouthful of foul remarks regarding your accuracy.”

Ellana frowned. “I didn’t know she cared.”

A quiet beam formed on his face. “Many Inquisition forces are taught rudimentary archery, but few truly excel at it.” One of his eyebrows danced upward as his chin descended. “Even if you were not the Herald, I would imagine that nearly _everyone_ would care.” He ushered her on and opened the tavern door when they reached it.

She crossed the threshold with a sigh, but her shoulders jerked upward when she noticed the quiet in the room. The entire building was empty. “What’s wrong? Where did everyone go?”

Solas smiled as he watched her roam all the way to the far corners of the small tavern, as if expecting to find someone crouched behind a barrel or keg. “I explained that you disliked crowded spaces and needed a chance to be somewhere without fear of jostling.”

She hooked a sharp eyebrow at the same time that a trickle of a warm grin began forming. “And soldiers like Cullen agreed to that?”

“They _tolerated_ it. That is enough for the time being.”

“And what time is that, hmm?” She slowly paced the deserted tavern.

Solas’ feet fidgeted a fraction, but he waited for silence to settle on them before he spoke. “Is today not your birthday?”

“I –” she faltered. She scowled lightly to herself. “I don’t know. My mother barely had time to settle into the clan before she fell ill. She told them a day, but no one was sure if it was my nameday or birthday. They’re not always the same thing in alienages. She didn’t know if she could hide me at first.” She sighed and gazed out the window. “But my father loved her. And she loved him. She must’ve done. She never spoke a cruel word about him. And I remember him – I think.” She tilted her head. “He helped me stay invisible until she could –” She scoffed softly and shrugged as she toed a random piece of straw on the floor. “Maybe that’s why I learned the bow so easily.”

“Indeed,” Solas agreed. He made to say something else, but instead, he gestured to a bench near the hearth. It scarcely looked like a bench _now_ , though. Draped in a generous piece of thick, embroidered Orlesian silk – a dark jade to rival her eyes – the worn and splintered planks resembled a throne, the tired paintings on the wall somehow revitalized by their mere proximity to the finery. Another fine piece of cloth was arranged on the floor next to it, and several cushions – perhaps _not_ Orlesian, but no less surprising in such a setting – were arranged all about.

But perhaps most surprising of all was a nearby platter heaped high – but artfully – with frilly cakes, the sort that the two elves had spent considerable discourse and speculation on but had not been fortunate enough to partake of after the fiasco in Val Royeaux.

Ellana stared at the scene, her mouth torn between confusion and amusement. “What’s this?”

His smile redoubled. “Come now. It would be unseemly not to give you a moment of happiness on a day like this.”

She wavered, but she remained silent. She shivered when a sudden gust assailed her.

He closed the thick door. A last whistle of air protested before it was shut out entirely.

The crackle of flames now had space to echo out in. Ellana gingerly strode to the bench and sat. Solas chose several of the frilly cakes from the platter and arranged them on a bone china saucer – another oddity next to the rest of the tavern. He held the saucer out and waited motionlessly as Ellana chose a two-bite with glimmering lavender icing and a sliver of strawberry perched atop it. She closed her eyes and bit into it greedily and unceremoniously, but her satisfaction soon rippled in generous waves across her face. Her shoulders even nudged up a fraction as she considered the delicate flavors mingling on her tongue.

“Do you like them?”

She took a long moment to interpret the experience. “Josephine tried to explain chocolate to me. I knew what it _looked_ like, but –” She licked a rogue morsel from her lips.

“There are some residents of Val Royeaux who eat such fare at nearly every meal.” He gently arranged the dish on the bench and strode over to the bar counter. He produced the formidable instrument from a hidden corner, the curious object with a long neck and thick, overgrown-looking strings – an item which had never failed to astound its listeners given the unusually delicate, high pitches that regularly issued from it.

She watched him wrap his long fingers around it as he settled by the fire. “What are you doing?” she smirked.

“Our esteemed bard Halewell was kind enough to devise a new song for the occasion.”

“Maryden?”

He smiled at her surprised tone. “You have been spotted wandering outside at night after the forces have settled in for sleep but before the tavern puts out its candles. Some here even claim to have heard you humming a song when you think you are alone.”

“Not _this_ sort of song. Lullabies.”

“And what point do you think I labored to make our woman of songs understand?”

“You can’t play it.”

“Oh? She certainly seems to have entrusted it to me.”

“I meant you don’t know how to use it.”

He became intent on tuning the strings. “One can learn a great deal of the world if one merely travels it with open eyes – and ears.”

He strummed and plucked and bent the notes. He played smooth strands of melody and harmony, chords and transitions. His modulation was so careful that Ellana scarcely noticed it. He kept the tune’s volume loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the hearth but quiet enough to avoid a jarring effect.

At first, Ellana’s face was bright with the possibility of learning the song, of memorizing its runs and leaps and dips, its repetition, its tricks. But soon, she studied Solas’ playing more than the song itself, the careful arcs and dips of his fingers a strangely compelling sight by the fire’s glow. He played with the same ease and fluency as Maryden, and yet it was – different. Her face briefly wavered near tears, but the same music that had almost induced them also chased them away.

The song stretched on for many moments, or perhaps he simply knew a clever way to play it over and over. Ellana’s eyes dulled. Her gaze became unfocused. Several times, she released a flurry of blinks, but her entire face had become slack. She moved down from the bench to the floor, scarcely more than a foot away from Solas now. But he was unfazed.

It had been the entire point of the occasion.

She reached for the cushions as she nestled between Solas and the hearth. The instrument occupied a great deal of his lap, but she leaned the cushion against his hip. She hugged one of the cushions loosely as she sat in stasis for a moment, drifting between sleeping and waking with the same ease that Solas had spoken of when anyone had asked him about the Fade. For a time, she fought off sleep, content to be still and surrounded by the restful notes.

But her eyes finally surrendered as he played the last wandering snatches of the song. She slept.

He deftly and silently shifted the instrument out of his lap. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He brushed her hair aside as his lips glanced her forehead once.

She slept.  


End file.
